


A Bad Bargain All Around

by OneStarryNight



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Derogatory Language, Dubious Consent, F/M, Facials, Fellatio, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Platonic Max/Furiosa, Porn, Pre-Relationship Max/Furiosa, Prostitution, Rough Oral Sex, Slurs, Smut, Trading in Sexual Favors, Vomiting, pressured into sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneStarryNight/pseuds/OneStarryNight
Summary: His expression changes to a leer and he rakes his eyes over Max in an exaggeratedly vile manner. “Got to offer something better than that smeg.”When the survey mission needs to trade for guzz in order to make it back to the Citadel, Max steps up and offers what Furiosa and Toast can’t. Warnings for dubcon, prostitution, and degrading language.
Relationships: Furiosa & Max Rockatansky, Max Rockatansky/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Mad Max Kink Meme





	1. Bad Decisions Lead to Bad Bargains

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Mad Max kink meme prompt: “The wives and Max get in a situation where they have to trade sex for help and supplies, either in the timeline of the movie (war rig breaks down near a settlement?) or at a later point when Max is back and helping them with something. Preferably the others balk but Max shrugs and steps up like it's no big deal. I'd love the outsider!POV of the wives and Furiosa watching, maybe keeping an eye to make sure he doesn't get hurt, and then comfort/aftercare when it's over and they're back on their way.” https://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=884674
> 
> Please read the tags and heed the warnings. This fic depicts the reluctant exchange of goods for sexual favors (i.e. prostitution) in graphic detail. Please don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. I’ve labeled this as dubcon, because although Max agrees, it is not enthusiastic consent and he has no other options. The sexual activity takes place in Chapter Two with the first chapter containing the buildup and the third chapter containing the aftermath.

“This is our best option Furiosa.” Toast doesn’t sound demanding, just certain, and Furiosa can’t really argue with her.

Furiosa doesn’t have the standing to argue with either of them right now, this whole mess is her fault. She’s the one that plotted the general course of their survey expedition, a mission to find out more about the territory to the North of the Citadel. She’s the one that decided strapping their extra guzz onto the back of their small rig would be secure and leave more room for water inside. And she’s the one that couldn’t navigate them though a patch of rocky hills, causing the rig to spin out and it’s rear to side swipe a boulder.

It is thus, her fault when the cans fell off and spilled into the wasteland, guzz soaked up before it can be retrieved.

They’d already traded at some makeshift settlements a few times, offloading some of their extra precious water for information about the surrounding area. Now, they had enough water only to get the three of them back to the Citadel, and not enough guzz to even get them half so far. The information they’ve traded for is useless to anyone else, and they have virtually nothing of value that’s disposable.

Furiosa is the one that limited the amount of supplies Max recommended they carry for the sake of taking the smaller, more nimble rig. And what do you know? She’s also the one that asked Max to come along, dragged him into this as soon as he’d driven up for his semi-regularly scheduled visit. Turns out this whole fiasco really is down to her, and her stupid, stupid choices. Well, asking Max to come along was actually a great choice, his help and experience on this trip has been invaluable. But she feels too guilty about dragging him into this situation to appreciate it.

They’ve made it to a trading post that’s too transient to be called a settlement in hopes that there will be guzz to trade. What they are going to barter with is rather uncertain. They don’t have much of value, and nothing that will reasonably pay for enough guzz to get them to the Citadel. But Toast is right, finding some guzz and a way to trade is really their best option at this point so Furiosa stops arguing and starts mentally preparing herself for the long drawn out haggling that this will most definitely entail.

“There’s some guzz looks like” Toast point over to the far corner of the trading outpost where three men are milling around a large jacked up truck and several barrels of what appears to be guzz. Furiosa drives them closer and parks.

The men straighten up as Furiosa steps closer with Toast, Max hovering in the background. “You looking to trade?” One of the men speaks up, moving closer to Furiosa. He’s bald and big, one eye scarred shut. He scans them over, takes in their rig behind them. “Must need a good bit of guzz for a junker like that.”

Furiosa stiffens at his words. One doesn’t just needlessly insult the ride of someone you’re trying to bargain with. Not unless you don’t care if they’re pissed off at you. Shit, they shouldn’t have made a beeline to the guzz, should have wandered a bit before coming over. Now he knows that guzz is what they need, knows that they have to negotiate with him. Shit.

“A fair amount, how much do you have to trade?” Toast speaks clearly, not with rudeness, but a definite take-no-shit tone.

The one with the dead eye grins at Toast none too kindly. “More important question is, what do you have to trade with? Pure grade guzz is pretty valuable out here in the deep wastes, it’ll take a good bargain for you to get any of it.” Toast glances at Furiosa.

“We have some water. Pure, no contaminations.” Furiosa knows they don’t really have any water to spare, but it’s the only thing of value they have left, only thing it makes sense to offer.

Dead-Eye turns his head and shouts at the two men behind him hovering next to barrels. “Oi, we still got water right?”

The one with a matted and hairy mane says “Sure do, that’s what that caravan traded for last night. Got more than we need to be honest.” The other man nods along, although he’s a twitchy one, so it could be involuntary.

“We have tools, repair tools, for your ride. You can use them, or trade.” Toast speaks with confidence, but any trader worth his salt will know that tools offered as a follow up to clear water can’t be anything special. The tools they have are not, and Furiosa can see Dead-Eye is aware of this.

“Don’t think that’ll work deary. Got all the tools we need, what good they do. I’m afraid we might be out of a bargain. Unless you have something else on offer.”

Dead-Eye is smirking at Toast and eyeing her in a blatantly lewd way, leaving no question as to what he considers adequate payment. Furiosa feels really pissed off now because she’s helpless and can’t punch that smug look off his shit face. She’s has to find a solution, can’t afford to walk away when she’s insulted. Which she is, because Twitchy is giving her the same lookover. This won’t work, she can’t let it, has to find another way. _Damn_ her for not listening to Max!

Max, who has been warily observing this conversation from the sidelines up till now, steps forward and grunts out, “Can work on your ride if you, mm, need any repairs. Can fix it up.”

Dead-Eye looks at Max now almost for the first time and sneers “Yeah right! Wouldn’t trust you rabid not to try rig it to blow to smithers. ‘Sides, it’s in good enough shape.” His expression changes to a leer and he rakes his eyes over Max in an exaggeratedly vile manner. “Got to offer something better than that smeg.”

It seems clear to Furiosa that Dead-Eye is just taunting Max, trying to provoke a fight. But instead of looking insulted and angry, or just plain sick to his stomach like Furiosa does, Max merely grunts and scans the horizon, flicking his eyes over to meet Furiosa for the briefest of seconds, before facing Dead-Eye again. He licks his lips and gives a jerky nod. “One full barrel of guzzonline then?”

A flash of surprise passes over Dead-Eye’s face before it’s replaced with a predatory expression. He swings around to Twitchy and Hairy and shouts, much louder than is necessary to be heard just by their party, “You hear that fellas? We got a better offer! From the scav no less. Getting your gearstick polished for the price of a barrel of guzz seem like an alright trade?” He turns back to Max and grins, as though daring him to back down. Max just stares back, making oddly steady eye contact as he says, “We get to check the guzz first.”

“Fair enough.” Dead-Eye motions his head back towards where the barrels are. “Come on, have a gander, look as much as you want. We’re honest enough folks, got no cause to trade bad guzz.”

This is moving too fast for Furiosa, who is trying to get Max to make eye contact with her, talk to her, tell her this is crazy and that there’s another option. But he’s following Dead-Eye over to Hairy and the barrels, not looking at her.

Furiosa frantically turns to Toast, looking for confirmation that this is insanity. Toast looks back at her, displaying most of the emotions Furiosa feels herself. Angry, afraid, slightly sick, but also… Toast looks relieved, like she’s grateful Max stepped up, like she’s _glad_. No, that’s not fair, Toast isn’t glad about this solution, about any of this. She’s just relieved that the solution doesn’t involve her. It dawns on Furiosa that Toast will die in the waste trying walk back to the Citadel before letting a wandering man have her. Furiosa can’t blame her. Can’t say she doesn’t feel the same way.

Max however seems remarkably calm for someone who’s just agreed to… what exactly? To jerk them off, blow them, fuck them, let them fuck him? The agreement was definitely sexual in nature, but Furiosa’s not sure of much beyond that. Is Max? Does he even know what he’s agreeing to? She stares at him inspecting a barrel of guzz under Hairy’s supervision, making sure it’s full and pure, no tricks.

Has he done this before? Max can play the stone-faced stoic better than anyone Furiosa’s known, but he’s betraying no indication that this is anything more than a less from ideal trade. An annoyance maybe, but not a prospect that makes his guts turn to ice or his brain fuzz over with fearful rage.

He’s walking back to her and looking at her with concern. Concern for her she recognizes, and she feels a rush of… something, that at this moment he wants to check and make sure she’s okay. “You alright?” He speaks low, close to her ear.

She nods, searching his face for reluctance, regret. “Are you? Don’t have to do this, we’ll find another way-“

Max cuts her off with a sharp shake of his head. “No, don’t have any other options, nothing else to trade. Can’t wait around to see if a, mm, better offer comes along. Just make us look desperate the longer we stay.” He glances over to where Toast is standing against the rig, back ramrod straight, eyes blazing at the wanderers. “Lucky they’ll take this, don’t demand a better…”

He doesn’t finish his thought but Furiosa can guess it. Lucky they don’t demand her or Toast, lucky they’ll settle for a man, for him. She ducks her head down and stares at her boots. Luck is too good a word she thinks bitterly. If they were _lucky_ she would have listened to Max, they would have something to trade, they would have enough guzz and not need to trade.

“Hey” he says softly and he’s gently tilting her head up to meet his eyes “’S okay, okay? Can’t change anything, just got to deal with, ah, what we have.” He looks away from her once he says it, and then back. “It’s okay.”

Okay is also too good a word for this, she thinks as she looks at Max. Her fear redirects from herself and focuses on him. “I’m going to be there.” She doesn’t think, just says, and then it’s clear that’s the only option. Max starts to shake his head but she interrupts him. “Yes, I will. I have to, no telling what the three of them will do with someone alone. I’m sorry, I know it’ll be uncomfortable, but I can’t risk it otherwise, can’t -“ she stumbles to a halt, but forces herself to finish “risk you.”

Max’s mouth twitches up in what might have been the start of a smile, but it vanishes before she can be sure, replaced by a mask of detached gravitas. “Hm, okay. Makes sense. Hopefully won’t make them, mm” He doesn’t finish his thought again and this time Furiosa can’t piece together his meaning.

She’s opened her mouth to ask him what he hopes, when Hairy gives a shout. “Hey scav! Enough talking, let’s put that mouth to better use!”

Something flashes through Max’s eyes as he looks at the wanderers, a wild feral look full of anger. But then it’s gone, and the stony exterior that betrays nothing stronger than resentment settles over top. Max gives her once last look and squeezes her hand (when did he take hold of it, she wonders) and walks slowly towards the guzz traders’ truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone cares, this is the truck I was visualizing as the guzz traders. I saw it and thought it was so badass and totally fit the Mad Max verse. Not the interior so much, but the outside, hell yeah.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InXzKI8oqfM  
> https://www.liveabout.com/sin-city-hustler-overview-3273522


	2. Bad Bargains Lead to Bad Outcomes

It doesn’t take many words or much convincing for Furiosa to go up in the truck with Max. Dead-Eye makes some protests, but he doesn’t push it. Maybe he sees the rage in Furiosa’s eyes knows when to pick his battles. Either way, Hairy stays down on the ground keeping an eye on Toast and the Guzz while Twitchy follows the three of them up into the truck interior.

All but the front seats have been taken out, so there’s more room than you would think. It’s larger than it looks from the outside, and she can fully stand in it. The truck looks and smells like it’s the permanent residence of three male wanderers, which is to say disgusting and putrid. If her stomach wasn’t already rolling Furiosa’s sure it would start now.

Dead-Eye wastes no time, they’re barely inside when he says “Down you go smeg, on your knees.” He works his belt open and puts a hand on Max’s shoulder, hastening his descent. Furiosa stiffens and tries to stay present, be here for Max. She’s no good as a guard if she faints, or pukes. But the realness of the situation is barreling down on her as Dead-Eye works his cock free and presses it between Max’s half open mouth.

She thinks Dead-Eye says something, taunts Max, but she can’t actually hear him through the roaring in her ears. She’s breathing too fast, she needs to get it together, be strong for Max, but all she can do is stare helplessly at how Dead-Eye is holding Max in place with one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair.

Max’s eyes are closed, his fists clenched resolutely by his sides. He’s not doing much, just letting Dead-Eye hold his head still as the fucker thrust his cock in and out of Max’s mouth. He’s not dragging this out, which is sort of a relief, but Furiosa can’t appreciate it really. Not when he’s face-fucking Max, moving in and out so fast she’s not sure Max has a chance to breath.

Her fear seems to be justified when Max makes a choking sound and tries to jerk his head back. Dead-Eye ignores him and keeps thrusting. Max’s whole body starts to convulse with aborted coughs as he tries to free his airways of whatever went down the wrong pipe.

“Stop!” She shouts, stepping forward from the corner where she’s parked herself. She’s ready to fight, ready to drag the shithead off of Max, to hell with guzz. But Dead-Eye turns to her and grins before pulling out of Max’s mouth.

“Your friend’s looking out for you mate, doesn’t want you passing out before everyone’s had a turn.” Max doesn’t reply, he’s too busy coughing and trying to catch his breath. For a moment there’s no other sound in the truck besides his ragged breathing. Tears are beaded on his eyelids, drool is running down his chin, and his face is flushed with lack of oxygen. Furiosa wants to ask if he’s okay, but as soon as Max raises is eyes, Dead-Eye takes that as a sign he’s good to go and grips his hair. Holding his head still, he plunges his cock back in, groaning as he snaps his hips even faster.

“Fucking gonna come down your throat smeg, gonna make you swallow. Make you choke on it, like you’re choking on my dick.” Dead-Eye’s hips are starting to stutter now, and eventually he finishes, pressed fully to the hilt, Max’s face pushed into his groin. He’s silent as he comes, and Furiosa can see Max’s throat working as he swallows.

There’s a mini eternity as she waits for Dead-Eye to finish, push away from Max. Her hands are twitching to grab him herself and fling him out the truck. But then he’s moving, cock sliding out of Max’s mouth with a sick wet sound. Max gasps and tries to catch his breath while Dead-Eye tucks himself in. He slouches against the truck door and grins lazily at Max.

“That’s it mate, pull yourself together. Wouldn’t want your woman here seeing you like this.”

Furiosa feels herself start to burn with rage. “Shut up you fucking asshole.” Dead-Eye just smirks, obviously glad his barb landed. She doesn’t look at Max now, doesn’t want to see him still on his knees still catching his breath. Doesn’t want to know if he’s angry she’s here, embarrassed she’s seeing him like this. She _has_ to be here, they both know that, so she gives him the illusion of privacy for a few fleeting moments.

It’s gone all too soon though. Dead-Eye must determine that Max is recovered enough because he jerks his head at Twitchy indicating him over to Max. Twitchy moves towards the front of the truck and grabs the back of the front passenger seat, jerking it as it slowly rotates around. When it’s facing the back of the truck he stops and turns to sit in it, unbuckling his belt.

Max stands up with a sigh and walks the two steps over to stand in front of Twitchy in the chair. Slowly he kneels back down. He’s rather do that than shuffle over on his knees Furiosa realizes, and she experiences a rush of protectiveness for this wild man. The one who will do what’s necessary to protect their party but not give up a scrap of dignity if he can help it.

He’s in front of Twitchy now, obviously waiting for the man to make a move. But the trader merely shakes his head with a fidgety jerk. “No, you, eh, you’re going to work for this. Won’t make it easy on you like Muck did, ehehe.” His voice has the annoying warble of a coward and Furiosa wants to punch his throat in.

Max is still for a moment, and then he’s moving, slowly readjusting his weight on his knees as he lightly places his hands on either side of either side of Twitchy’s thighs. Then he lowers his torso down until his head is hovering over Twitchy’s cock. There’s a second of hesitation but then it’s gone, and Max has closed his eyes and pulled the cock into his mouth.

He’s trying to go fast she can tell, bobbing his head quickly with deep swallows. But after only a few strokes Twitchy cards his fingers through Max’s hair and tugs, forcing Max to slow his pace. “Easy there, don’t go trying to get me to shoot off. Like’s I said, you’re working for this. Take it slow.” He leaves his hand in Max’s hair but it’s only a guiding weight now, not making itself felt unless Max starts to move too fast.

His pace is so slow now, almost leisurely under Twitchy’s direction that Furiosa wonders is he’ll be able to get the man off at all. Twitchy must be thinking the same thing because hitches up his hips to meet Max and says, “Go on, use your tongue. Ehehe, get to work, come on now. Don’t have those lips for nothing.” Max must comply because the man groans as he looks down at him. “Yeah, that’s it, like that. Come on, put your back into it.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change as far as she can see. His eyes are still closed, his face as neutral as one’s can be when you’re sucking off a man. No obvious pain or distress in his countenance, but no pleasure either. He merely keeps moving, dragging the cock in and out of his mouth, making soft sucking sounds. She can see his tongue working.

This goes on for a long time, definitely longer than Dead-Eye took. Twitchy seems intent on drawing this out and once even has Max stop altogether before continuing. Eventually Dead-Eye shifts from where he’s standing by door and snaps his fingers. He doesn’t say a word, but Twitchy obviously knows what this means because he guides Max’s pace to quicken using the hand in his hair.

Max is still doing all the work, leaning heavily on his hands now as he moves his whole upper back along with his head. He gags a handful of times, but since he can pull himself off, Furiosa doesn’t have to intervene. After a few more quick tugs on his cock, Twitchy suddenly moans and thrusts up into Max’s mouth, coming.

Max obviously wasn’t expecting it because he chokes and pulls away, slipping off the man with a slick popping sound. Twitchy isn’t finished, and some cum hits Max on the lips and chin before he can move his head back far enough. He neutral expression breaks, and he grimaces as he brings his sleeve to his face. There’s a quick flash of creamy white on his tongue as he sticks it out, and then it’s gone, wiped away on his shirt sleeve.

Max stands up and backs away into the corner, a little shaky on his legs, and Furiosa wonders if his knee is bothering him now. Twitchy’s panting is the only thing breaking the silence for a moment, and then Dead-Eye shifts on his feet. Again he doesn’t say anything, just inclines his head toward the door. Twitchy gets his meaning because he sighs and starts to buckle himself back up. He heads out and the three of them are left in the tuck.

The silence is oppressive and somehow makes the truck feel hotter than it really is, reeking of sweat, musk and cum now. Max isn’t looking at Furiosa, just stares at his boots while he keeps swiping his sleeve over his lower face, as though trying to wipe up some phantom cum that he just can’t get. She wants to ask if he’s okay, go over and touch him, but Dead-Eye’s presence is a constraint. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye and can see him looking at her, smirking, just waiting for her to give him a reason to gloat. She won’t give him the satisfaction of showing more concern for Max than is absolutely necessary, and asking if he’s okay when he’s clearly not yet dead would be showing that concern.

There’s loud clamoring up the side of the truck and then Hairy bursts in, loud and large. Furiosa sees Max give an involuntary cringe at this sudden explosion of energy. She can’t say anything though, because Hairy is suddenly talking, loud, like the hard of hearing who don’t know how to modulate their voice.

“There ‘e is, thank fuck! Been waiting for this long enough down there. Don’t know why I had to be last, but no mind.” He keeps talking as he makes his way closer to where Max is in the corner, reaching down to undo his own belt. “You ready eh? Ready to take some cock? Don’t know if these wankers warmed you up or wore you down for me. Guess we’ll see yeah? See how good you are.”

Max’s face is back to calm indifference, and he gives no indication he’s listening to Hairy’s running monologue. He sinks back down to his knees and Hairy crowds him close to the corner. Furiosa can’t see well from this angle and she slowly moves to get a better view of Max’s face. Not that she really needs to, Max might even prefer if she didn’t. But she wants to be able to see that he’s okay. Especially since she’s likely not going to be able to hear him above the constant prattle from Hairy.

He’s still going, now that his cock is out and been stuffed unceremoniously into Max’s mouth. “Yeah, you know what to do, you’ve got this. Bet you love this, taking dick, getting to suck someone off. I bet it gets you off, gets you hard doing this. You’re hard right now aren’t you, fucking cock slut.”

Hairy’s moving at a steady pace, one hand in Max’s hair, the other pressed against the side of truck above Max. He’s doing most of the work but isn’t moving as fast as Dead-Eye, which gives Max plenty of time to breathe between thrusts. Unfortunately, it also gives Hairy the breath and mental wherewithal to keep running his dumb, shitty mouth.

“Fuck, you’re made for this slag, you’ve got the mouth built for this. You know that right, know this is what you’re good for? Shit, you know you want this. You must love this, whoring out for cock. I bet you can’t stop, bet you’re always begging for it. Such a fucking slut, fuck.”

Max has opened his eyes and glanced at Furiosa, then away. It’s hard to read expressions on a face that’s full of dick, but Furiosa thinks Max’s has changed from neutral to… sad, embarrassed, afraid? She realizes he’s hearing this shit and knows that Furiosa is too. Is he afraid that she believes it, sad that she won’t respect him because of it? Furiosa’s stomach turns, and a wave of protective rage comes over her.

“Shut up.” She snarls at Hairy. He doesn’t stop moving but turns his head to look at her.

“Sorry, this bothering you? Seeing your man gag on cock like the tramp ‘e is? Knowing he lo-“

“Close your hole or I will, you bastard.” That was stupid, she shouldn’t let him get to her. But Furiosa can barely see straight and she won’t let anyone say those things about Max, damn the consequences.

Hairy leers and starts to say something back, but Dead-Eye intervenes. “Shut up and get on with it.” He sounds firm, clearly not wanting this to escalate, and Furiosa subsides to a simmer as Hairy turns back to Max.

He shifts his stance and changes the angle of Max’s head. This time when he thrusts Furiosa can see the bulge of his cock in Max’s throat. Max gags but is able to recover when Hairy pulls back out. He still talking, but it’s mostly just a litany of expletives.

Hairy starts moving faster and Max’s stuttering breath and wet slurping sounds become audible even over Hairy’s incessant blabber. Furiosa can tell he’s close because he goes back to talking to Max.

“Shit, you take it all, let me ram you. You’re tight, I’m stretching you open. ‘S like you haven’t done this a hundred times, like you aren’t the whore you know you are.” Before Furiosa can say anything, Hairy suddenly pulls all the way out of Max’s mouth. With one hand gripping Max’s hair keeping his head still, the other holds his cock as he comes, coating Max’s face with white strips of cum.

Max is gasping, mouth open, and he flinches as the wet stickiness hits him. His face is red and wet, with sweat, tears, saliva, and now cum. Hairy groans, silent for the first time since entering the truck. He lets go of his cock and rubs his thumb over Max’s lips and chin, then his whole face, smearing the cum all over.

Max doesn’t resist or try to move away. He merely closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. When Hairy abruptly lets go and back away, Max’s head hangs down as though a puppet string has been cut. Furiosa thinks he might fall forward, but he braces a hand against the side of the truck and steadies himself.

She’s itching to talk to him, move close and touch him, but she can’t, not just yet, not while Hairy and Dead-Eye are still here. She misses what Dead-Eye says, but soon Hairy is leaving the truck. Dead-Eye looks at her, and she meets his gaze, forcing as much hatred and contempt into her glare as she can. He merely gives her a wry smile before turning to Max.

“Don’t suppose you feel inclined for another go, eh rabid? I’m down if you are.” Max doesn’t look up from where he’s still kneeling, his breath shuddering in and out like he can’t quite catch it. “Guess not then. My loss, you’re fucking amazing at that.” He turns towards the door and says over his shoulder, “Guzz is ready whenever you are.”

Then he’s gone, and it’s just Furiosa and Max. Max turns his head and looks at her, actually holds her gaze for the first time since they entered the truck. They just look at each other in silence for a few breaths and then Furiosa’s moving, rushing towards his side.


	3. Bad Outcomes Lead to Better Understanding

“Max, are you okay? Are you hurt?” His hair a wild mess and his face is still covered in cum that’s starting to dry now. She doesn’t have a cloth to wipe his face, so she uses the edge of her own shirt. Max shakes his head no in answer to her question but doesn’t speak. His breathing is still uneven, and she wonders if that’s just because of the oxygen deprivation or something else.

She wants to stay here and wait for him to pull together, but they need to go. The truck is sweltering now, and the stench is becoming overwhelming. Plus, Toast is down there alone, probably worrying about them. “Can you stand? We need to get out of here.”

Max nods and starts to haul himself up. His bad leg wobbles, and he grimaces in obvious pain. “Does it hurt?”

Max starts to speak but coughs instead. He tries again and his voice is raspy like he’s shouted himself hoarse. “It’s okay. I’m fine, I…” He sways on his feet and his eyelids flutter. Then he’s pushing Furiosa to the side and vomiting all over the floor. She grabs his shoulders to keep him on his feet as he leans forward and heaves again. A third time and then he’s done, tears once again clinging to his lashes. “Sorry.” He murmurs, standing up right and wiping his mouth.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, don’t be. I’m glad you did it in here actually. Serves them right.” He smiles weakly at her and they leave the truck.

~~~~~

Toast is pacing in front of the rig and her relief at seeing Max and Furiosa is visible. She flicks her eyes over Max as though looking for damage but doesn’t address him. Instead she turns to Furiosa and says, “Ready to go? Guzz is here. I can’t lift it in the rig myself.”

“I’ll help. Go get some water.” The last she says to Max who, out in the sunlight, doesn’t look quite like total shit, but probably still feels like it. He doesn’t argue, just heads into the rig while she and Toast get the Guzz stowed away. Inside the rig this time, not that Furiosa’s ever going to make that mistake again. They could top off now, but the tank has enough for a few hours’ drive until nightfall, and she knows they all just wants to get away.

Toast confirms this by muttering “Now let’s get the hell out of here” once the guzz is safely in place. She hops in the back of rig, and Furiosa walks over to the driver side where Max is, drinking from a canteen.

His face is wet, presumably splashed in a hasty washing attempt. There’s also a damp spot quickly drying in the sand as though he spit out a mouthful of water, probably after swishing around in his mouth. She almost frowns at the waste, but can’t blame Max, not really. She’d let him dump the whole canteen out if it made him feel better.

“Are you okay?” He nods, looking out into the hills, not at her. He takes another deep swig and offers her the canteen. “No, you should drink it all.”

He looks at her now and says softly. “’M fine Furi. Don’t blame yourself.” She ducks her head in shame, because this isn’t about her, Max shouldn’t be saying things to make her feel better.

Really though, she should be glad he doesn’t blame her as he should. Whatever else, Furiosa is immensely grateful that Max isn’t retreating into himself or pulling away from her. In the few times he’s returned to visit them since the run on fury road he’s become more than a fellow warrior, more than a valuable ally. He’s become a friend, someone she trusts, and she hopes their relationship can remain intact.

When she doesn’t reply or look at him he says, even quieter this time, “It’s what had to be done. Could have been worse, really.”

Furiosa wonders again if Max has done this before, if he knows how much worse it could have been. She almost asks him, wants to know if that’s why he’s so nonchalant about the whole thing. But she remembers all that shit Hairy was spewing and how Max had looked at her, ever so briefly. And she can’t, not just because it’s none of her business, but because Max might think that she’s asking because of what he said. He might think she believed all that garbage, might think she judges him for what he’s had to do to survive in this bitter harshness.

She doesn’t judge him, she knows she won’t think less of him, has no standing to look down on him. But while she knows Max trusts her with his life, that’s not the same as trusting someone with your heart. As close as they are, as close as she’d like them to be, Furiosa doesn’t know if Max would yet trust her enough to believe such a declaration. Maybe one day she’ll be able to tell him that his past doesn’t matter, that he’s already redeemed himself in her eyes, and he’ll believe her. Maybe one day he’ll say the same and she’ll believe him. One day.

Today though, she just takes the canteen from Max and downs it, the warm water feeling glorious in her mouth. His face has dried already in the hot sun and beside a scratchy quality to his voice he’s looks to be back to normal. “Let’s get moving, we have some hours until nightfall.”

He grunts out an affirmation and walks around to the passenger side as she gets in the driver’s seat. She glances around. The guzz traders are already haggling with some other wanders, giving them no notice. The whole trading post is giving them no notice actually, everyone hurrying about their business and moving on. Like them. Business completed they’re moving on.

Furiosa looks over to Max and then at Toast in the back “Ready?” They nod and she starts the rig, heading south toward the Citadel and leaving the trading post and guzz traders in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome! Leave your feedback and constructive criticism below, or just say hi!


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